


Teach Me a Lesson

by true_alpha



Series: Hot For Teacher [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Facials, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/true_alpha/pseuds/true_alpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek lets the authority from his new teaching position go to his head a bit.</p><p>Not that Stiles is really complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach Me a Lesson

“What were you doing in there?”

Stiles grins widely, which is never a good sign. He leans against the door jam, glances over his shoulder into Derek's office, and then turns back at his boyfriend. 

“Just had to look something up,” he says lightly. “I don't know why you're so protective of your office. It's not like I'd break any of your stuff. Not on purpose, at least.”

Derek rolls his eyes. He peers past Stiles into the office, scanning for anything out of place. The computer is on, open on the Google search page. His briefcase is right where he left it earlier, resting against the side of the desk. Nothing seems to be out of place or sabotaged. But after five years with Stiles, Derek knows that he's a master at pranks.

“What did you do?” Derek asks. He steps into the room, looking around carefully. 

“Nothing! I told you, I just needed to look something up!” Stiles says, pouting. “You don't believe me?”

“No.”

Stiles pouts even more. Derek ignores him, still looking around carefully for anything out of place. 

“I told you, I didn't do anything.” Stiles steps behind Derek, wraps his arms around the other man's waist, and starts laying kisses along his bare shoulder. “Now do you want to search your office or do you want to fuck me over your desk, _Mr. Hale?”_

 

Derek wakes up at five-thirty sharp the next morning. Stiles is snoring lightly and wrapped around the other man, and it takes Derek five solid minutes to untangle the two of them. 

That finally done, he showers, shaves, and strolls back into the bedroom. Stiles has sprawled out across the entire bed, and seems to be half awake. 

“Get up,” Derek says loudly. “You have work today.”

Stiles groans, rolls over, and buries his face in the pillows. He mumbles something back into the worn cotton, making Derek roll his eyes. Most days, Stiles is twenty-two going on two – _especially_ in the mornings. He always throws a fit before actually getting up.

By the time Derek has pulled on boxers and a pair of slacks, Stiles has managed to roll over. He squints at the clock and groans. 

“It's six!” he says. “I don't have to leave until eight-thirty!”

“Maybe I wanted a goodbye kiss.”

Stiles perks up and turns to look at Derek. He takes in Derek's still shirtless torso with greedy eyes, but when he speaks up, he sounds petulant. 

“You aren't ready to go yet.” 

“Well then maybe I wanted company while I got ready.” Derek tugs on a white wife beater; Stiles pouts as most of his view is taken away. “You need to start getting up before noon again. You've been lazy all summer.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, mutters under his breath, “What are you, my dad?” If Derek hears, he doesn't grace the remark with a reply. Instead, he picks out a light blue button down and slips it on. 

“I liked the wife beater better,” Stiles says, folding his arms underneath his head. “I like being able to eye fuck your arms.”

Derek snorts. “As much as my students would probably appreciate that, my new boss would not,” he deadpans. Stiles pulls a face.

“Oh. Right. I don't want a bunch of kids looking at you like that.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “You're not much older than some of them.”

“They're still all minors, though. I can vote. I can drink. I can do all sorts of fun adult things.” His boyfriend snorts again, and Stiles finally can't hold in his laughter anymore. “Alright, okay, I'll give you those. But I'm legal, and that means....”

Stiles grabs Derek's wrist as the other man reaches for his watch, resting on the nightstand. 

“I'm legal, and I can suck your cock and let you fuck me, and all sorts of other fun things you wouldn't let us do when I was seventeen,” Stiles says. The hand he has on Derek's wrist rubs circles over his knuckles, while his other hand trails up Derek's thigh to the bulge in his pants. 

“I wasn't going to fuck a minor. Your dad is the _sheriff,_ Stiles,” Derek says, but his voice is low and heady; his breath catches when Stiles squeezes him through his pants. “Stiles, don't – I have to get going–”

Stiles smirks. He sits up, letting the sheet pool around his waist, and starts to undo Derek's pants. 

“You don't have to leave for half an hour. That's plenty of time.” He pulls Derek's slacks and boxers down just enough to let his cock spring free. His voice drops an octave when he speaks up again. 

“I just wanna suck your cock, Derek. Fuck, I love your cock, you know that?” He laps at the head, and Derek groans, his fists clenching at his sides. “You're so fucking big, Derek. Sometimes I can hardly fit all of you in my mouth – not without choking, anyways.

“I like that, too, though – choking on your dick.” Derek lets out a strangled groan at the words, and Stiles smirks. “The way it feels down my throat, the way you _smell_ – shit, Derek, I love it all.”

Finally, Derek manages to find his voice. “Yeah? You like it when you choke on it?” he asks lowly. He raises one hand and strokes his fingers through Stiles' hair. “You like it when I make you take it all?”

This time, it's Stiles that lets out the filthy groan. “Fuck, yeah,” he pants. He lets his mouth hang open obscenely, just begging for Derek's cock to slide right in. And Derek lets him have it.

He presses in slowly, just the tip at first. Stiles suckles greedily until he has the entire head in his mouth. He makes an effort to bob his head, to get Derek to feed him more of his cock, but Derek's grip tightens on his hair and holds him in place. 

“You'll get this when I'm ready to give it to you and not a second sooner,” he growls. “You understand?”

Stiles whines, but nods. He looks up at Derek with wide, glazed eyes, just waiting for the word to go. Because as talkative, as stubborn, as goddamn annoying Stiles usually is, he lets it all go when he and Derek are like this. He's nothing more than a little–

“Cockslut,” Derek says, an edge of fondness to his voice. “Isn't that right, Stiles? I have to go to work, but you just can't stop yourself from needing to suck my cock.”

“Only for your cock,” Stiles says, and fuck, his voice is already raspy and wrecked. “I only want _your_ cock, Derek, please, _please,_ let me suck you–”

He strains forward for it, but Derek pulls him back, tutting in disapproval. 

“What a little whore,” he chastises, and Stiles whimpers. “I don't have time to punish you properly right now, but tonight, I'm going to strip your ass raw for being so greedy.”

Stiles whines again, even louder, even more desperately, but he definitely doesn't seem adverse to the idea. 

“Just wanna make you feel good, Mr. Hale,” he whimpers. 

Derek swears, nearly loses it at _Mr. Hale._ He never thought his new job would ever develop into such a kink for the both of them. 

“I think you're just a greedy little slut,” he replies evenly. “I think you want me to fuck your mouth just so you can get off. That's what does it for you, isn't it? You want me to hold you still, fuck your mouth, and when I come, I'll make you take every last drop of it–”

Stiles shudders violently, lets out a high pitched keen, and suddenly goes slack in Derek's grip. Contented little whimpers leave his throat as Derek stares in disbelief. 

“Fuck, Stiles, did you come?” he asks, almost reverently. His gaze flickers down to Stiles crotch, and he instantly frowns. “You were touching yourself,” he observes. 

Almost at once, Stiles' post orgasmic bliss vanishes. He looks up at Derek nervously, chews on his lip. 

“I – I'm sorry,” he tries, but Derek hushes him – by pressing his dick past Stiles' lips again. The younger man takes it easily, greedily, and tries to press forward. But again, Derek holds him in place. 

“I didn't say you could touch yourself, let alone come,” he says sternly. “I'm very disappointed in you, Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles whines. He tries apologizing around the cock in his mouth, but it all comes out a garbled mess instead. Spit drips down his chin and he chokes a bit. Without warning, Derek pushes his dick all the way into Stiles' mouth, not letting him adjust. Stiles chokes for a moment, but easily adjusts and takes Derek all the way down his throat. 

“What a fucking slut,” Derek reprimands. He's panting now, but still sounds just as stern. “Couldn't even wait for me to give you permission. What a whore. What a _little fucking cock slut.”_

Stiles groans and nods, but Derek growls and holds his head still, stopping the movement. He holds Stiles completely still by his hair, stroking in and out of his mouth at a harsh pass. A few times, Stiles chokes, but Derek still doesn't relent. He reaches his other hand down and tugs and squeezes at his own balls. 

Stiles sees the movement and whines. He raises his own hand, thinks better of it, and stops. This time, he looks up to Derek for permission. 

“You can touch me,” he pants. Stiles can tell from his tone just how close Derek is, and eagerly takes over. He rolls Derek's balls, tries to squeeze them in time to the slide of Derek's cock down his throat. “Fuck. Fuck _fuck fuck.”_

He pulls his dick from Stiles' mouth at the same time as he yanks the other man's hand from his balls. Stiles cries out his protest, leaning forward to finish the job, but Derek snaps at him. 

“Don't,” he orders. “I didn't say you could swallow.”

Stiles looks up with wide, hurt eyes, just as the first spurt of Derek's come hits his chin. His gaze immediately returns to Derek's dick, his mouth eagerly falls open. 

Derek strokes himself through his orgasm, making sure his jizz lands on Stiles face. It drips from the younger man's chin, cheeks, even a bit on his nose. Derek groans when he sees it and leans down to press a kiss to Stiles' swollen lips. 

“Fuck,” he curses. He grabs a tissue from the nightstand to wipe his hand and dick, and then pulls his boxers and pants back up. Stiles is panting and shaking somewhat, looking at Derek with wide eyes. Derek takes his chin in a firm grip. 

“You took my dick so well, Stiles,” he says, almost fondly. “But I'll still have to punish you tonight.”

“Y-you say that like it's a bad thing,” Stiles replies. He sounds absolutely wrecked. Derek hopes it stays that way all day, hopes that people will suspect what made Stiles sound that way. 

He leans down to lick some of the cum of Stiles' cheek. The other man whines, leans into the touch, but then Derek pulls away. 

“Go take a shower,” he orders. “I really need to get going now.”

“I want that goodbye kiss,” Stiles says. Derek chuckles and leans in to give it to him. When they pull apart, Stiles presses his forehead against Derek's. “Will I get to swallow next time?”

Derek smirks and straightens up. “Maybe if you're good,” he says. “Now go shower. And no touching yourself,” he adds when he sees that Stiles is half hard again. Stiles pouts, but nods. He walks into the bathroom still completely nude and entirely shameless about it.

Derek looks after him fondly, and then shakes his head and chuckles again. He does up his shirt and sprays on just a little more cologne than usual, hoping it'll cover up any stench of sex that lingers on him. 

His little foray with Stiles cost him his time to read the paper and have a real breakfast, but he does manage to pour coffee into his Thermos and grab a couple of granola bars before he heads out the door. 

“Love you!” he shouts over his shoulder, not expecting a reply. Stiles is probably still in the shower. 

“Love you! And your dick!” Stiles answers. Derek chuckles. He has his hand on the door knob when Stiles adds, _“Mr. Hale.”_

Derek growls under his breath. He doesn't have enough time, but....

“Save that for tonight,” he calls, “Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles groans, and Derek walks out with a smirk. 

 

When he gets to his classroom, Derek just stands in the doorway and looks around for a moment. He set it up last week with Stiles, but compared to the other rooms, it's still pretty bare. Still, it's his classroom, and that's what he's wanted since he set out to become a teacher. 

He sits at his desk and opens his briefcase. He takes out his lesson plans, some notes he took, and – something he doesn't remember putting in there. 

It's a plain manilla envelope with “Mr. Hale” scrawled across it in Stiles' chicken scratch. Frowning, Derek cautiously opens the envelope. There's a photograph inside; Derek pulls it out. 

Derek swears and nearly drops it. 

Stiles obviously used the web cam in Derek's computer to take the shot. He's sitting at Derek's desk in his home office completely naked, save for one of Derek's button downs. It hangs open on his chest, showing his flushed, mole covered skin. Stiles has both feet up on the desk, on either side of the keyboard. One hand is wrapped around his flushed, full cock, and the other is behind his balls. His hand blocks the view, but it's more that obvious what he's doing. Last of all, his eyes are lidded, but he has a shit eating grin on his face.

A loud group of kids walks past Derek's door, and he quickly shoves the photo back in the envelope. He whips out his phone and dials his boyfriend's number. 

“You little shit,” he hisses when Stiles answers. “I'm about to teach my first class ever with a fucking hard on because of you.”

Stiles has the nerve to laugh. “Didn't like my photo, Mr. Hale?” he purrs, still sounding delighted with himself. “Are you going to fail me? Oh, isn't there _anything_ I can do to pass?”

“You didn't learn anything this morning, did you?” Derek growls. “Just you wait until tonight. I'm going to spank your ass so hard until you can't even _think_ about sitting down for an entire week.”

Stiles whines, and yeah, that's definitely not helping Derek get rid of his hard on. 

“Yeah, teach me a lesson,” Stiles whimpers. “Fuck, I've been so bad, De – Mr. Hale.”

“Get ready for work, Stiles,” Derek snaps. “Don't even think about jerking off. I'll see you tonight.”

He ends the call and turns his phone off. After making sure the envelope is safely tucked away, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Imagining his boss (a creepy ass old guy, Mr. Argent – ugh) helps to wilt his erection, but he still can't get Stiles out of his mind. Suddenly, an idea springs to mind. He pulls his spare lesson planner out of his briefcase and opens it up. 

Laura had bought him a lesson planner when he got his job, and so had Stiles. He chose to use Laura's first, and decided put away the one Stiles had bought him for next year. Now, though, Derek realizes that he has a much better use for this planner. 

After all, Stiles could go with learning a few more lessons.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I try to write plot. It just turns itself into porn. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please leave a comment or kudos! Takes a second, means a lot!


End file.
